Just Give Me A Reason
by ThatGirlWithTheFedora
Summary: Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff are not perfect. Their ledgers are full of red, their memories of pain and suffering, and their dreams of demons that will never leave them alone. Being an assassin does that to a person. But when they're together, they feel don't feel broken, just bent. Can they learn to love again? Songfic with Just Give Me A Reason by P!nk.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- The first time I heard this song, I thought of Clintasha. I just had to write this. Sorry in advance for the shortness of this chapter, they will get longer. Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Marvel characters mentioned. I wish I did, but I don't. I also don't own 'Just Give Me A Reason'. It's by P!nk, not me. Go listen to the song if you don't know it!**

One choice is all it takes. One simple choice to turn the entire course of your life around. Natasha knew that better than anyone.

_Clint forced her roughly against a wall, his forearm pushing into her throat and holding a gun to her head. She struggled valiantly against his hold, but they were both exhausted from their lengthy brawl and he was simply bigger and stronger. Clint stayed silent until she stopped fighting him, and then spoke._

_"You're good," he stated bluntly. Natasha rolled her eyes. Of course she was good. In the field they worked in, you had to be good or you wouldn't be alive. "And SHIELD could use you." He held her steady, despite both of their heavy breathing. She tried to break away again as his hold loosened slightly, but he just shoved her harder into the wall._

_"I could bring you back with me," Clint persisted. "You'll have to go through every test under the sun before they trust you enough to let you go on a mission, but you're strong enough and smart enough to pass them with flying colors. It won't be easy, but it'll be worth it."_

_Natasha quieted her breathing and tried to calm her racing heart. She hated not feeling in control. "Why are you doing this?" she finally asked._

_Clint's sniper-sharp eyes softened. "Because I don't think you want to do this anymore, and there's a place for you at SHIELD." His closeness was starting to make Natasha nervous, and she never let anything, or anyone, make her nervous. She wouldn't deny that the sniper was attractive, which wasn't helping clear her head, and she detested it. She was used to being the one in control; attractive men didn't have this effect on her._

_Cling leaned in even closer still. "You don't have to do this anymore," he whispered. And then suddenly their lips were upon each other in an aggressive kiss. Neither of them knew who made the first move, but both their hearts were beating at a rate that shouldn't have been healthy. Clint almost lost his grip on the gun he was still holding to her head, but managed to keep a good hold on it._

_They broke apart, breathing hard once more. Her deep green eyes met his grey-blue ones. Natasha took a steadying breath._

_"I'll come with you," she murmured, unknowingly making the best decision of her life. She allowed the archer to remove every hidden knife and gun from her skin-tight black uniform and secure her hands behind her back. He escorted her back to the waiting SHIELD helicopter while Natasha debated whether or not to seduce Clint and get as much information out of him as possible and return to Russia, or to infiltrate SHIELD and secretly send information back while keeping their trust. Or maybe just desert the Red Room altogether and start a new life._

_Unknowing of what the future held for her, Natasha followed the strange archer, hoping for the best but prepared for the worst._


	2. Chapter 2

Natasha sat on the rooftop of the apartment building she and Clint lived in. Residents didn't have roof access, but it was easy to climb up a few balconies and slip up to the roof. Really, if they didn't want people on the roof, they should have designed the building more strategically.

The sky was dark and dangerous, mirroring Natasha's mood. How poetic, she thought. A dark day for dark thoughts. She tightened her hold on her legs, sitting as though she was physically trying to hold herself together. Yup, poetic. Even in her thoughts she was sarcastic.

The sound of almost silent footsteps approached Natasha from behind. She knew immediately that it was Clint, and didn't bother turning around or reaching for one of her many hidden knives. Without a word, he sat down next to her, leaning back on his hands and legs dangling over the side of the building. He remained quiet, knowing that sometimes a meaningful silence is more valuable than wasted words.

As they sat, Clint noticed how tightly clenched her fists were and how her shaking was barely visible. She rarely allowed her emotions to show through the miniscule cracks in her stoic mask, and Clint was touched that she considered him close enough to see a piece of the real her.

Without a word, Natasha put her head into her knees and her shaking increased. Ever the calm one, Natasha's grand display of emotion stunned Clint. He recovered quickly enough and put a hand hesitantly on her shoulder. She froze, and slowly raised her head up to meet his eyes. She was not crying, only trying to maintain the little sanity she had. As they stared at each other, Clint saw all the horrors his partner had seen in the depths of her haunted green eyes. He tightened his hold on Natasha's shoulder and let emotion show through his sniper-sharp eyes. Without a word, he told her everything she needed to hear: he would be her rock, and he would never leave her, and he would stay as long as she would have him.

Natasha put her head down again as her shaking grew to a climax. Clint put his arms around her and held her while she fought her demons. He didn't move away from her, even when lightning flashed in the sky and thunder rumbled and it started pouring. He sat with her through the storm, both literal and metaphorical.

It was that moment that Natasha knew that Clint would always stand by her.


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha laid awake in bed, unable to fall asleep, as usual. She envied Clint and his ability to sleep like a baby. Somehow, he was able to go to bed every night and not wake up screaming like she rather frequently did.

She heard a groan come from his bedroom across the apartment, followed by a mumbled, "Tasha."

Well, most of the time. Natasha sighed. He always talked so loudly when in his sleep, and it got on her nerves all the time. "Tasha," came his muffled moaning, more insistent this time. She groaned. Would he ever shut up? "No!" she heard him yell, followed by the sound him thrashing around in his bed. "Tasha!" There was a pause so long that Natasha thought he was done, but then came the sound of his strangled cry. "No, Natasha, don't die," he choked out so quietly that it was almost a whisper, and Natasha had to strain her ears to hear it. "I can't lose you. I- I need you."

There was suddenly something wet on Natasha's cheek. Was... was that a tear? She wiped it away angrily. No, Natasha Romanoff does not cry. She was a highly trained assassin who did not cry at petty things like emotion or attachment. She wiped another tear off her face. Okay, maybe she did. Well, she sure wasn't happy about it!

Natasha blinked in surprise. No one cared about her. People just used her for her skills, or her training, or her body, and then threw her out on the street when they were done with her. She was just the tool of every man and woman she had ever met, meant to be used and abused without a second though.

Until he came along. Natasha had never known such a person as Clint Barton. The man was incredibly infuriating at times, yes, but... he was genuine. He was hard but kind, rough around the edges, and could hold his own in a fight. Okay, he could more that hold his own. He could take on an army and arise victorious. But best of all, he could relate to Natasha. He had seen many of the same horrors as she, knew how bad the demons that came with were and he didn't leave her out to dry when she needed him. He was real.

Natasha ground her teeth in frustration when she realized what she was thinking. He was her partner, not her boyfriend! Ugh, she sounded like some stupid fifteen year old girl with a major crush, not a highly trained assassin with better things to worry about than a man. What's gotten into her?

She turned onto her side frustratedly. Stupid emotions. Why do they have to go and make everything more complicated than it needs to be?

Clint's breathing returned to normal, and Natasha sighed in relief. He would return to a peaceful sleep, and she wouldn't have to worry about him saying things that weren't allowed to be said, speaking of feelings that they weren't allowed to feel. They lived in a dangerous world, and something as trivial as love could end in their painful deaths.

And Natasha was not going to allow that.

**A/N Well, that's Natasha for you. She's so in love, she doesn't even realize it. By the way, there's a rule against posting other people's lyrics in a fic because they belong to someone else, so if you listen to the song on know the words it will have a much bigger impact. Or at least, I think so.**


	4. Chapter 4

For once in their busy lives, Clint and Natasha had a day off. They had just come back from a mission, and had a day or two until they had to leave again. The agents rarely had the luxury of having time to do whatever they wanted, not working or training felt unnatural to them. Especially Clint. He sat on one side of the couch, not sure of what to do with himself. Natasha sat on the other end, calmly reading a book.

"I'm bored," Clint stated, bouncing his leg up and down rapidly.

"Well then find something to do," Natasha replied sarcastically without looking up from the paperback. "And stop bouncing your leg, I can feel it all the way over here."

Clint sighed and complied, twiddling his thumbs instead of bouncing his leg. "Watcha reading?" he asked, looking over at Natasha.

She sighed. "It's a book about the history of communism," she answered, trying to stay calm. All she wanted was to read about her mother country! Darn Americans and their annoyingness.

"You're so Russian," he stated. Natasha facepalmed. Really? Of all the things he could say, he chose that?

"If you don't shut up I will cut your hands off and you will never be able to shoot again," Natasha threatened calmly, going back to her book and turning the page.

"You woul-" was all Clint was able to get out before Natasha had a loaded gun pointed at his head while still reading. He sighed. She was always so volatile!

He huffed. "Why are you always threatening me, Tasha?" he whined.

She shut her book and glared at him, still holding up the gun. "Because you're always annoying me," she stated blankly. "And my name is Natasha, not Tasha."

Clint grinned childishly. "I specialize in annoying." Natasha got up and threw her book down on the couch, beginning to walk away. "And for the record," Clint added, "I think Tasha suits you. It's sexier." Natasha froze mid step, immediately throwing up her natural defenses and going into agent mode. She turned around slowly and narrowed her eyes.

"What did you just say?" she demanded in a low voice. If Barton had any survival skills he would deny the words that just came out of his mouth and cover them up with anything else.

Clint smiled cheekily. "I said you're sexy. Problem?"

Natasha could feel the migraine coming on. She clicked the safety off her gun and gave him a clear warning look.

"You wouldn't shoot me," Clint challenged, standing up and crossing his arms.

She fired a shot that grazed his hair and hit the wall behind him with a crack. "Try me."

"You're so mean!" he whined, pouting at her.

Natasha holstered her gun and rubbed her temples. "You are so childish and annoying. Why do I put up with you?"

Clint's smile dropped off his face. "Do you really feel that way?" he asked.

"Sometimes," she retorted truthfully.

Clint dropped his head down to his chest, and it was silent for a moment. Natasha was about to walk away when he finally spoke.

"Just tell me when," he said quietly. Natasha gave him a quizzical look that he couldn't see but knew was on her face. "Just tell me when you don't want me around, and I'll leave. I'll walk away and stop bothering you. You can go on, living whatever life you want, and I won't bother you anymore."

Natasha was speechless. What the heck was he thinking? He wouldn't just walk out on her. No. He was being stupid again.

She smiled and he looked up, unable to hide his feelings for the girl who had taken over his entire world. "I won't let you walk out on me."

Clint had a relieved look on his face. "Thank you," he whispered.

**A/N- Aww, more fluff. Kinda. Clintasha fluff isn't normal fluff. **

**Feel free to leave a review. Maybe. Possibly. If you want...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N- Sorry I didn't update over the weekend, I was in Florida for stuff and didn't have time to go on the computer. Without further ado, here's chapter 5!**

_There was an intense pressure in his chest, focusing all the force in the world on his heart. He fought the pain with everything he had, but it just got worse. His head felt like it was going to split open, and he wanted to cry out in pain. He wanted to scream until he couldn't scream any more, but he found he had no voice. He could feel the pain overtaking him as he grew weaker and could fight no more. Finally, just as he thought he was going to die, it stopped, and all he sense was an overwhelming shade of blue: in front of him, to his left and right, and even inside of him. Having nothing left to fight with, he gave into the blue and let it have control. It would be nice to stop fighting..._

_And suddenly, he was fighting again. Not a mental battle, but a physical one. He went through the motions his adrenaline allowed him to, just like always. Except this time, he wasn't fighting the enemy. He was fighting his teammates. His friends. His family. His mind was screaming at him to stop, but his body was not under his control. From his usual vantage point high above everything, he took shot after shot that he didn't know why he was taking. First was Fury, who ended up with an arrow in his good eye. Then Coulson, the closest thing he had to a father. Then Stark. Thor. Dr. Banner. Captain Rogers. Shot after shot he took, with his mind hollering at him to stop but his body not listening. And then came Natasha. She was unarmed, for once, yelling something distant-sounding. She seemed to be screaming his name, but he couldn't quite make it out. He nocked an arrow and pulled the bowstring back as far as it would go, just as he had done a thousand times before. He saw his target with crystal clear eyes, just as he had done a thousand times before. He released the arrow with ease, and found that he could control his body once more. Natasha! he yelled, but it was no use. Like a thousand times before, he knew he would hit his mark with perfect accuracy. He watched in vain as the arrow sliced through the air and pierced her chest. He stared in agony as she fell. He had to do something. He threw aside his bow and jumped of the roof he must have been standing on, desperate to get to his partner. He felt the same pain in his chest that she felt in hers, and all he knew was that he was falling, falling, falling..._

"Clint!" There was a sharp burst of pain on his right cheek, and he was suddenly awake. He sat up quickly; Natasha stood over him as his eyes bolted open and stared wildly at her.

"Tasha!" was all he managed to gasp out. He ensnared her into a bone-crushing hug and she fell into his lap, tensing up immediately. She relaxed when she realized that he had had a nightmare. If holding her would calm him down, then he would hold her by all means. She knew just as well how unsettling nightmares were.

He ran his fingers through her hair and down her back, as though making sure she was still there. Natasha held still and waited patiently for him to be done. She didn't break their silence, even when it seemed like he had calmed down. Clint buried his face in her neck and took a deep breath.

"Natasha," he whispered.

"I'm here," she murmured softly. She didn't bother telling him that it was just a bad dream, and that it was going to be okay. For all she knew, the dream was real. And in their line of work, dreams tended to be pretty darn unsettling.

"Natasha," he breathed again, this time only sounding half-insane. "You're alive."

"How bad was it?" Natasha asked gently, tentatively sliding her hand up and down the back of his head and neck. She was never good at calming people down, but it seemed to comfort him.

"Bearable," Clint said in a stronger voice, even though they both knew it was the exact opposite.

They sat like that for a few minutes more, holding each other and not saying anything aloud. But the fact that neither of them moved, even once their muscles started cramping up, said a million things that their words couldn't possibly express.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N- Thank you for all the kind reviews! They really make my day. By the way, I can't post the lyrics to the song because they're not mine, so this will make a lot more sense if you know the lyrics to the song. Sorry for any confusion!**

"Clint, stop trying to woo me," Natasha said wearily as she saw the bouquet of flowers sitting on their kitchen table. "It's not going to work."

"I beg to differ. I can see you slowly falling for me, even if you won't admit it to yourself." Clint flashed her the boyish grin that he knew she secretly liked.

Natasha sighed in annoyance. Would his pointless, immature advances never stop? "If you don't stop annoying me, I'm going to push you off the Helicarrier and shoot you to pieces as you fall."

Clint smirked. "You wouldn't do that, you would miss me too much. "

"No, I wouldn't," she deadpanned.

Wow. Harsh. "Come on, Tasha, give me a chance."

"I'm giving you a chance at learning how to not piss me off, and you're not doing very well," Natasha said, trying valiantly to keep her temper in check.

"Don't make this about me, Tasha. What's wrong? Why won't you say yes to me?"

"Oh, see, now you're desperate," she said, rolling her eyes and walking away.

"The fact is, Natasha, that you could have any man you wanted, and yet you refuse to let anyone get that close. Why?" Clint asked, ignoring her comment at his desperation, which really wasn't that bad. He just didn't want anyone but her.

Natasha whipped around, tired of his persistence. Maybe if she just told him the truth, he would shut up and give her some space. "Fine! You want to know why I don't let anyone get too close to me? It's because no one would want me, Clint! I'm a monster, I've killed thousands of people since I was ten! I've had to sleep with more men than should be healthy! I'm too far gone to love anyone back! The Red Room destroyed me, it took out love and anything remotely similar and replaced it with a killing machine! I can't love anyone!" Natasha was breathing heavily after her explosive rant, staring at Clint with all the anger in the world in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped as she calmed herself down. "Sorry, I-"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by Clint suddenly wrapping his strong arms around her and holding her close to him. She stiffened instinctively, but slowly relaxed her body when she realized he meant no harm. He pulled back slightly to look at her while still holding her.

"I want you, Natasha," Clint said softly, allowing some of his walls to come down. "I don't know everything about your past, but I want to know. I want to know everything about you, good or bad, because I accept you as you are. I love who you are, even if you don't. You're not the only messed up one, you know." He gave Natasha a soft but genuine smile as he saw the sea of usually hidden emotions swirling in her eyes. She took a deep breath and buried her head in his shoulder, allowing for once him to hold her in her weakness.

"Thank you," she whispered, still holding on to him tightly. For one, she allowed herself to just be held by someone else.

**I love Coulson. He's such a fatherly figure for Clint and Natasha. They're such a great messed-up family:)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello my lovely readers! I have some sad news. Well it's not sad for me, but it might be fore you:( I'm going to be away at camp for about a week starting tomorrow, so I won't be able to update. However, I'll make it up to you and post two chapters right now! Please don't be too angry...**

Coulson slid the mission file across the briefing table to his best team. Clint picked it up and skimmed through it, Natasha taking in the information with him.

"It will be pretty quick," their handler said. "Get in, deliver the virus to the main computer system, burn the building to the ground and get out. Should be quick and easy."

"Will there be any civilians in there?" asked Clint guardedly. He would not put those innocent lives in danger.

Coulson sighed. "There will always be that risk. It depends on if you're willing to take it."

"No," Natasha replied immediately.

Clint glanced at her sideways. "Nat, are you sure? This could be something bigger that what it looks like."

"No," she repeated firmly. "I will not allow civilians to be trapped in a burning building." Her voice was the slightest pitch higher than normal, and her eyes were starting to glaze over as she fought the stream of memories that was threatening to overtake her. The hospital fire. Only Clint seemed to notice her struggle.

"We're not going to take this one, Coulson." Clint verified.

The handler sighed. "Alright. I'm not going to force you to take a mission you don't want to." He gathered his papers up and stood up. "Maybe Jensen and Evans will take it," he muttered as he walked out. The second he was gone, Clint rounded on his partner.

"What's wrong, Tasha?" He asked gently, but she knew he demanded an answer. The Black Widow never turns down missions.

"It's not important," she said quietly.

"Something tells me it is," Clint replied.

Natasha closed her haunted eyes. "Red Room," she said simply.

Clint sighed tiredly and put his hand on his partner's shoulder. "When are you going to tell me everything that happened in your past, Tasha?"

"Never," she responded immediately. Clint raised his eyebrows questioningly. She nodded seriously.

Clint took a steadying breath. "Look at me, Natasha," he said gently. She complied unhappily. "I know that your past is horrifying. I don't know any words to try to describe it, and I speak more languages than I can count on my hands. But the point is, you're not the only one. I've told you my past, and you accept me." she looked away, knowing what was coming, but Clint took her face in his hands, gently forcing her to look at him. "We can't run from this forever, Tasha," he whispered. "You can tell me what they did to you."

"You don't want to know, " she whispered blankly.

"Yes, I do," he pressed, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I want to know everything about you. I want to know you, to be there for you when your past haunts you, to always be by your side. I want you, Tasha. No one else. You."

She suppressed a shiver, hearing the truth in his words and feeling them in his caring touch. No one had ever said anything like that. Most men treated her like trash, in the endless cycle of use, abuse, and discard. And yet somehow she sensed that Clint Barton was not most men.

Natasha exhaled. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," she warned truthfully.

Clint shook his head. "I don't care."

"You're an idiot." But she gave him the smallest of smiles that no one else got to see, and that meant the world to him.

Clint laughed. "If it means that I'll get you, then I'll be the biggest idiot in the world."


	8. Chapter 8

**So sorry about the confusion guys! I accidentally posted the same chapter twice. *holds up hands in defense* please don't kill me! Thanks to everyone who let me know that I messed up:) So, (hopefully) here's the REAL chapter 8! **

Clint was laying in bed staring up at his ceiling when he heard Natasha's scream. Before he could register a thought, he bolted out of bed and across the apartment, where Natasha's room was. She was sitting up in her bed, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. In one hand, she clutched the knife that she kept nearby at all times. Clint knew immediately by the haunted look in her eyes that she had had a nightmare.

"I'm right here, Natasha," he said softly, putting a gentle hand on his partner's shoulder. She blinked, gradually bringing her focus back to the land of the living. Clint took her hand and gently massaged her fingers until she relinquished her iron grip on the knife. He set it gently on the nightstand and took her face in his hands.

"Clint." Her voice was the barest hint of a whisper. She squeezed her eyes shut and unconsciously leaned into his touch. The pair was silent for a few moments while Natasha fought her demons and locked them up in the darkest part of her mind where no one was allowed. After what seemed like hours, she opened her eyes.

"I'm fine," she said with a steel voice, already back to her usual iciness. Clint detected only the barest hint of horror in her eyes. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," Clint murmured. He stroked her hair gently. Natasha stiffened. "Don't push me away, Tasha," Clint pleaded.

Natasha felt her resolve weakening. His touch made her shiver, keeping her constantly on edge. His sharp eyes pierced into her mind, breaking down the walls she spend years building up like no one else could. Like no one else would.

"Fine," she muttered. Natahsa allowed him to pull her into a hug. It was strangely comforting. She gave a small, humorless laugh.

"What is it?" Clint wondered aloud.

"It's just," she started still letting her partner hold her, "we're compromised. A few years ago, I would have shot myself before I would have allowed myself to feel anything even remotely affectionate for a man. We're so compromised, I don't even know why we're allowed on missions any more."

"Lay down," Clint said suddenly.

Natasha wrenched herself out of Clint's warm embrace. "Excuse me?" Her eyes were steeled, and she had one eyebrow raised, clearly conveying a disapproving message.

Clint smirked. "Not like that, unless that's what you want." He flashed a cheeky smile. The Russian groaned. That annoying little... "I was kidding," he said, hastily interrupting Natasha's dangerous thoughts. He rubbed her shoulders soothingly. "Just lay down. All I want to do is hold you."

Natasha was perfectly still for long enough that Cling thought she might have fallen asleep again. Not a muscle twitched. Finally, she made up her mind and complied with the archer's wishes. She laid back on the mattress and turned to her side, facing the wall. Silently, Clint laid down beside her, arranging himself so that her back was pressed up against his chest and he had his arms around her. He rested his face against the back of her neck, a few strands of her fiery hair tickling his forehead. He exhaled

"Alright?"

Natasha nodded, not trusting her voice to say anything. She closed her eyes and forced her body to relax, telling herself that he was not there to hurt her. She finally breathed calmly. It felt good to be held like this. it was new to her, something she had never experienced in her twenty-something years.

In his arms, she felt safe for the first time.

**Do did I do okay? Is this the same chapter, or does it make sense now?**

**See y'all next week!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello everyone! Sorry this was so late, I was at camp and the internet sucked. it was almost nonexistent. And while I'm apologizing, sorry the chapter is short, I was rushing to get it up for you guys. So... I hope you like it!**

Natasha awoke with a start. The last thing she remembered was dragging Clint's unconscious body from an underground base in Bulgaria before she passed out from blood loss. He had been sporting a gunshot to the abdomen and a concussion, while Natasha was dealing with multiple knife wounds.

Clint.

She looked to her left to see Clint laying in a hospital bed similar to hers. Good. They had been put in the same room this time. Quickly looking at the readings from the machines he was hooked up to, she let out a sigh of relief. He was going to be fine. They could break out of SHIELD Medical as soon as he woke up.

Then the memories came. The torture, physical and mental, that they had been subjected to during their latest mission. The near death risks they took for each other, seeing their fellow agents die, and almost losing one another. Over and over, a cycle that ended only in death.

Next to her, Clint opened his eyes. Natasha knew instantly that his thoughts were as horror-filled as hers. They were both in bad physical shape and worse mental. Clint gave her a weak smile, which she didn't have the strength to return. He reached across the space in between their beds and put a hand on her shoulder. Natasha leaned into his touch, and they sat like that for a few minutes.

'Will you be okay?"

"Yeah. "You?"

"Yeah."

And they would. It would take time and be full of pain, but they would recover. They always did. Their job required that of them, so they would do it until it killed them. They would help each other to heal, taking turns fighting their demons. They would help each other remember what it was like to love, and be loved.


	10. Chapter 10

The tension in the apartment that Clint and Natasha resided in was so thick you could cut through it with a butter knife. Sometimes the littlest things set them off, even the ones that were meant to be protective or comforting turned them against each other.

They had gotten back from a rough mission, and Natasha was pissed. She wasn't usually in a good mood after a mission, but she was angrier than usual and had ran off to blow off some steam, in the process saying some bad things to Clint. She had stayed away for a whole day and night, sitting on rooftops and shooting at nothing. In the meantime, her partner had sat in their apartment waiting for her to come back.

"Just leave me alone!" she had screamed at him before running out of their apartment. Clint was used to being yelled at, it was part of the job. It wasn't her words that hurt, because Natasha was rarely nice to anyone, even him. It was the way she said them. She had sounded like she genuinely didn't want to see Clint again. She he had sat in that chair, waiting for someone who he wasn't even sure would come, for a whole twenty four hours. It had been agonizing, not knowing if she would come.

But she did. Just when he was about to give up hope of her coming back, she appeared in their apartment again. She had climbed through the window and was sitting on the couch, calmly reading a book as if she had never left.

Neither of them said a word as they sat less than four feet away from each other. They sat in silence, waiting to see who would crack first.

Natasha finally spoke. "I'll leave if you don't want me here."

The barest hint of a smile appeared on Clint's face. He was a sniper. He could sit motionless and in complete silence for hours. "I never said I didn't want you."

She nodded evenly. "I thought... Never mind."

"What is it?" Inquired Clint. Natasha rarely shared her thoughts, he wanted to hear everything she had to say.

"It's nothing."

"What were you going to say?" he pressed.

She clenched her jaw. "I thought... I thought I hurt you too much and you didn't want me back."

"Oh, Tasha," Clint said softly. He moved across the floor to sit beside her on the couch. "Don't think that. Yeah, you hurt me, but I'll get over it. Remember? I'm strong." He flexed a muscle, trying to cheer her up with his boyishness. It didn't work. "Natasha, I'm ecstatic that you care. But there is nothing you can do to hurt me so bad that I wouldn't want you. You know what I did while you were gone? I sat on that chair, thinking about how much I care for you. I always want you. I never stopped loving you, not since the moment I saw you."

He put a gentle arm on her shoulder and was elated when she didn't shake him off. Clint took that as a sign to continue, and slowly put his arm all the way around her. She leaned into his shoulder and sighed. Clint smiled.

She was finally letting him in.


	11. Chapter 11

The two deadliest SHIELD agents there had ever been on base sat in the cafeteria, trying to eat lunch. It was a new feeling for them, sitting in the cafeteria. Most of their time was spent on missions or in training, they didn't generally spend time on the base in New York if they didn't have to. Normally, the cafeteria was loud and bustling with energy and conversation, but Clint and Natasha's presence was somewhat terrifying for the junior agents who had only heard rumors of their skill.

However, there were always the few idiotic agents who thought that since agents Romanoff and Barton were older, it meant they were less able to do their job.

"What was that?" Clint demanded, glaring at a blonde-haired agent sitting farther down the table. The whispers were starting to annoy him, he just wanted to eat his lunch in peace!

"I was just telling my friend that some agents around here are getting a little... rusty," agent Roberts replied cooly.

Clint narrowed his eyes. That cheeky little... "You really think so?" he asked menacingly.

He expected Roberts to back down, but he just got got more arrogant. "Yeah, I think I could take you."

The archer let out a low breath. He was getting dangerously irritated. He knew he could take Roberts easily, he had seen his only average training report, but he didn't want to deal with crap from Coulson for responding to Roberts picking a fight.

"Not going to fight, huh?" Roberts smiled when he got no answer from Clint. "That's right. You're too chicken. Face it, Barton, you're getting old. You and your partner are going to sit on a shelf and collect dust," he finished cruelly.

Clint clenched his jaw, squeezing his hands into fists in an attempt to control himself. Roberts was a cocky jerk, who deserved to be shown his place...

Natasha put a steadying hand on Clint's thigh under the table, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. It's alright, she told him with her actions. He doesn't matter, it's not worth your time to do anything. He didn't offend me. Let it go.

Clint closed his eyes and took a cleansing breath. Giving Roberts a fake smile, he said sarcastically, "Good to know. I'll try to get a comfortable spot on that shelf." With that, he stood up and walked away. Natasha followed suit without making a sound.

"There goes the flightless bird and his b-"

In a fraction of a second, Natasha whipped out her gun, clicked out the safety and fired a shot into the table less than an inch from Roberts' hand, effectively cutting off the rest of his sentence. He froze, face paling in fear. Natasha smirked and walked out of the cafeteria behind Clint.

They would keep each other in line, they would protect each other.

No matter the cost.

**Hi everyone who's still here! Sorry this took so long to get up, I've been having a lot of writer's block lately. So I'm going to be out of town next week on a serving trip, and I won't have internet, which means nothing next week:( Leave a review?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, whoever is still here! I sincerely apologize for the amount of time it took to get this chapter up. I got back from St. Louis and I had some writer's block and then I had to do back to school stuff... and I was lazy. I'll admit it, my laziness added to the lateness of this chapter. I'm very sorry. Please forgive me. Anyway, here's the chapter.**

Natasha sat on the couch in the apartment silently. She had been sitting like that for at least the past hour when Clint had sat down to watch TV. They sat in a comfortable silence until Clint finally decided to find out what was on Natasha's mind. He cut right to the chase.

"Tasha, what's on your mind? You've been sitting still for at least an hour. You're not sleeping because your breathing pattern changes when you sleep, so you must be awake, which means you're thinking. What's going on in there?"

Natasha finally sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Just... sifting through memories," she answered cautiously.

"Care to enlighten me?" Clint asked.

"No," Natasha lied immediately.

The sniper's eyebrows raised. "Really? Because the tense look on your face and your body language tells me that you want to say something important."

Natasha huffed at his correct deduction. "Cocky American," she muttered. Clint didn't take the bait, he was used to her wounding his pride.

"You're holding it in, Natasha. Don't."

The redheaded Russian fidgeted with her hands uncomfortably, making Clint do a double take. Natasha Romanoff was calm, cool and collected. She never fidgeted. "I... Well..."

"I don't believe it," Clint said. "The Black Widow is at a loss for words."

Natasha glared at him. "Shut up," she deadpanned.

Her partner put his hands up in mock surrender. "Whatever, just say what you want to say."

She huffed again. "Well... I guess I just..." Natasha trailed off once more after realizing she had no idea how to say what she was feeling. A frustrated sound came out of her mouth, and she punched the pillow sitting next to her.

"Uh, would showing me what you feel be easier?" Clint suggested.

"No!" she snapped.

He tried again. "You've always been better at-"

"I'll manage!" Natasha insisted. She closed her eyes and took a cleansing breath, Clint waiting patiently to hear what she wanted to say. "It's just... I mean... I've never had any... good relationships with... men," she began. Clint nodded intently. "I, uh, didn't ever have the chance to... grow up, or be a teenager. I was used and thrown away and I never knew how it felt to... enjoy being with people."

She looked up at her partner, expecting to see judgement or fear in his eyes. Yet she was still surprised that the only thing in his eyes was acceptance. even though thats all he showed her when she opened up.

Natasha took another deep breath and continued. "And, well, um, since you brought me to SHIELD, I realized that not everyone is all bad, and that... some people are actually mostly good. And... they might even be... likable."

The corners of Clint's mouth perked up a little. "Tasha, are you saying...?"

"Maybe," she replied somewhat cryptically.

Clint threw his head back and laughed. He had been waiting, hoping, praying for this to come for so long that he wasn't sure if it would ever happen. Natasha was finally letting things out! Not holding them in!

She narrowed her deadly green eyes. Was he laughing at her? She just came as close as she ever would to talking about her feelings and he was laughing at her?

Natasha raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Clint when he finally opened his eyes. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye dramatically as he settled down and cleared his throat.

"I'm not laughing at you, Tasha. I'm laughing out of sheer happiness."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"

Clint returned his face to it's usual serious masquerade. "Natasha Romanoff, are you saying that you like me?"

"Yes," she replied simply after a short pause.  
The biggest smile Natasha had ever seen on him graced Clint's face. He drew her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his face against her neck. He held her tightly for a few minutes before responding.

"I like you too, Tasha. I like you a lot."

Natasha smiled into his chest before snaking her arms around his muscular frame and embracing him back. They stood there, allowing themselves to be held without worrying about playing a character or having a gun held to their heads. No guns, no knives, no arrows, no blood, no running, no red, no nightmares. No Black Widow or Hawkeye, no sniping or seducing.

Just Clint and Natasha.

**Soooo... we're getting to the end of the song. This was "You're holing it in, you're pouring a drink, no nothing is as bad as it seems we'll come clean." Or at least my weird interpretation of it. Anyways, the song is almost over. There will probably only be one, maybe two more chapters:(**


	13. Chapter 13

A deadly pair of assassins were in their kitchen apartment, preparing for dinner. The archer stood at the stove, stirring a pot of spaghetti and another of pasta sauce while the spy put plates, napkins, silverware, and glasses of water on the table. He dished out two servings of pasta and set the pots back on the stove, taking his seat on the opposite side of the table from his partner.

As they dug in to the home-cooked meal, the two made small talk.

"Good pasta," Natasha commented.

"Thanks," came the mumbled reply from Clint. "What time is our briefing tomorrow?"

"Nine AM at the base, conference room three," she responded. For a few minutes, there was just the sound of forks clinking on plates and the occasional slurp of pasta. It was a comfortable silence. The agents would agree that the only person it would be comfortable to sit in silence with was sitting across the table. Neither particularly wanted to break the silence, but there was a question burning in one of their minds.

"Why are you here, Clint?" Natasha asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"Um, because it's my apartment too?" His reply sounded more like he was trying to guess at the correct answer to a trick question.

"No, I mean why haven't you left me yet? It's been years, and you haven't abandoned me, kicked me out, left me to die on a mission, tried to kill me... again."

Clint smiled to himself. For the smartest spy in the world, Natasha could be pretty stupid sometimes. "I told you. I'm not leaving you."

"But I'm not exactly an easy person to be around. I'm kinda a-"

"Stop making excuses, Tasha. I need you, and I know you feel the same way, even though you don't tell me. It's the little things you do: the way you smile at me and no one else, the way you let me touch you, the way you touch me back, when you let me kiss you, how no one knows you better than I do. The little things, those are the reasons. I'm not walking out, I'm not gonna leave you."

Natasha froze, fork midway to her mouth. Slowly, slowly, she lowered the utensil and stood up. Clint swallowed his mouthful of spaghetti and gave her a puzzled look, eyebrows knitting together. She walked gracefully to him, bending down and pressing her lips on him. Clint's eyes widened before they closed contentedly, and he stood up and put his arms around her waist. Natasha tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders, slowly snaking them around his neck as he kissed her back. Clint smiled into the kiss, realizing that this was the first one she had initiated.

They finally broke apart after running out of air. Clint brushed a fiery curl back from Natasha's face and smiled. "You have always been better at showing me how you feel rather than saying it."

The barest hint of a blush appeared on her cheeks. "Yeah..."

Clint's hand gently made its way to brush against her neck. "I like it." He leaned in slowly and kissed her again. His body language made it clear that she could lean back and evade him if she wished.

She didn't.

If nothing else, they both agreed on one thing: best dinner ever.

**Hey guys! Um sorry for... that. I think that was probably the first kiss scene I've written, so let me know what you thought. But hey, they kissed! Clintasha finally kissed! And Natasha was the one who started it. I bet you didn't expect that, did you? So... we probably only have one more chapter:( I'm gonna be so sad when this is over, I love writing this story.**

**Review? Maybe? Please?**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello everyone! First things first: I am so sorry this came so late. I was planning on posting this on Tuesday, but then school happened and life got in the was and writers' block and drama and all that jazz. So please accept my dearest apologies. Also, a HUGE thank you to everyone who has stuck around! It means so much to me, I honestly had no idea that people would even like this story.**

**Anyway, get your tissue boxes ready! This is the last chapter of JGMAR. Cue the crying. Well, not really. Whatever. Just read. **

Clint stuck his tongue out at his partner, getting nothing but an impatient eye roll out of her. He was so immature, it was constantly getting on the Russian's nerves. Clint pouted at her. He just wanted a laugh, was that too much to ask? She was always so closed up and hidden behind her walls, Clint sometimes didn't have a clue how she was feeling.

"Do you love me, Natasha?" Clint asked out of the blue, leaning into her and taking her hand.

"Love is for children," she answered automatically, turning her face away from his burning gaze.

"Maybe that's why I act so childish around you," he countered softly.

"I-" Natasha's voice caught, realizing she didn't know what to say. Memories and images hit her like a brick wall: Clint making goofy faces and trying to get her to laugh, Clint calling people stupid nicknames behind their backs, Clint acting like a twelve-year-old and annoying the crap out of her, Clint, Clint, Clint. That's all there ever was, she had just never realized it. She stood there, mouth slightly agape, taking it all in.

Clint.

"It's okay, Tasha" he said quietly, taking her chin in his hand and gently forcing her to look up at him, breaking her out of her trance. "You don't have to say anything." He leaning in more and gently pressed his lips to hers. He held her loosely, effectively relaying the message that she could leave if she wanted to, he wouldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do.

She rested her hands lightly on his chest. She could feel his firm, toned muscles through his thin shirt. Clint brushed his rough thumb against her cheek and buried his hand in his hair, sending shivers that she couldn't repress down her spine.

Natasha pulled back, an odd look on her face.

"I'm-" Clint started, but she cut him off before he could finish.

"No," she insisted. "That was good." She smiled a genuine smile at him, and he could feel his knees grow weak. He loved that smile, it always managed to light up his world when it was used.

She opened her mouth to say something. "I… Well… It's just… I…" Once again, Natasha didn't know how to say what she felt.

"Tasha," Clint asked slowly. "Are you trying to say what I think you're trying to say?" She gave him a look that only he would understand as a yes. He broke into a grin. "I love you too, Tasha." He pulled her close to him, enveloping her in his arms and resting his chin on her head. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his much broader waist.

She did love him. Her definition of love wasn't the same as his, but they each knew how the other felt. He would remind her what it meant to love and be loved, and she would learn again. They were both broken people with dark stories, but they would love each other better because of the pain. Their love went deeper than words could ever express. The phrase "I love you" would never be enough to describe their feelings, but would suffice nonetheless. They needed each other, and they knew it. She needed him to remind her that the world wasn't all bad, and he needed her to keep him sane. They needed each other to be there when the nightmares came and the demons were relentless and the scars hurt too much to ignore.

Clint Barton would always be there for Natasha Romanoff, and she for him.

Partners until the end.

***bursts out crying* It's over what am I supposed to do with my life now? Besides school, drama club, and everything else... Well thank you guys so much for reading! It has been an honor. Feel free to leave a review about what you thought of the story!**

**Well, I'm not sure when I'll post again. School is gonna get busy, and I'm gonna have even less time to write. If that's possible. But I do have ideas for more stories that I'm going to write. I started a Hunger Games fic, and I'm planning a Supernatural one. I have ideas for Spiderman 3, Doctor Who, Harry Potter... I'm not sure what I'll write and what will stay in the labyrinth of my mind, so review or PM me of there's anything you might want to read. Thank you all for reading, and I'll see you later!**


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